olio n. (OH-lee-oh): a miscellaneous mixture; a hodgepodge

Father

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Dada. Similar to Jimmy Fallon, Chris has decided that he wants Nico to call him Dada. As most of you that are parents know your life and world is turned upside down when you have a kid. I now call Chris Dada when he is in another part of the house and I need him. We both hope Nico will say Dada or momma first. Of course I think I carried the kid, and feed him every three hours, I should come first right? Alas, it probably will not work that way.

I have it good. I have the most amazing, smiley, giggling little boy who is happy all the time, squeals in the afternoon because he wants to go outside, and NEVER stops moving. He is just like his momma, my brain never stops, and I am always moving. This kid is going to be hard to keep up with for sure.

I have no idea how people adopt or raise children alone. It would be almost impossible to me. Chris keeps me sane, fed, encourages me to relax, and is so damn patient with me and Nico. He will be the perfect parent to oversee the potty training because he will sit on the side of the bathtub for as long as he has to (whereas I would eventually lose my mind waiting), he already cooks while holding Nico, and I see a budding chef in the making. As I go back to work, they will be spending some father/son time together this summer, and while I am wildly jealous I cannot be with them, I am so grateful and excited for this time they will have together.

Last week I showed Charlie’s crazy giggle video to a few co-workers, and one of my colleagues said: “Do your ovaries hurt?” I laughed. A good joke for someone who is utterly addicted to her niece and someone thinking about starting a family. I have always loved children so it is not anything new to me that I would be addicted to babies. I worked in the day care on my college campus during all four years, and I worked specifically in the baby room, where they were allowed to start coming at 6 weeks. Babies were my favorite. No talking back. Ah…

A friend posted a great video on Facebook over the weekend it cracked me up. Since I do not have kids, at the moment I have absolutely NO interest in “Frozen.” What did peek my interest was this dad and his engagement with the song and his interest in getting his daughter to sing along. It made my day. After watching it Sunday morning (me at my desk and Chris in the other part of the office at his), I said to him: “Did that make your sperm hurt?” It goes both ways, right? I continued to pry and ask if he could see himself driving the car and trying (and egging) his daughter or son on to sing along, and he said: “Definitely.” Ah, I love that man.

Most all of us like to cuddle, whether we are 3 months, 3 years, 30 years. The art of the cuddle is the security of connectedness, closeness, and feeling safe. Sleep is always the necessary commodity for both babies, toddlers, and their parents. Either you have a sleeper or you do not, or the child ebbs and flows from one extreme to the other. With my sister and good friend both having babies in the last 3 months, it seems to be a current topic. Co-sleeping, cribs, naps while laying on you, not sleeping unless you are near them. There are so many different philosophies to what we should and should not do, how we treat sleep schedules, whether we should co-sleep with our babies.

I honestly do not know what I will do, or how I will handle whatever situation I am in, all I do know is that every child and every situation is different. I might have selected how I want to handle sleeping, only to find out that it will not work for my child. I obviously do not have to worry about it for the moment. However, when I saw this video of this father who goes much farther than I would to get his daughter to go to sleep, I laughed. You have to watch it entirely. It is comical, and yet you can probably relate. He is probably thinking my back is going to be fun to stretch out tomorrow.

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What do you think? Would you go that far to get your baby to stop crying and go to sleep? It does show how sometimes we just want to be close to another, safe in their arms. She goes right to sleep if she is laying on him. I can relate. Sometimes just snuggled up next to Chris on the couch I can fall right to sleep. Comfort + Safety + Trust = A good night sleep.

Yes, it brought tears to my eyes. And, yes, I have mentioned before that I do not cry often, but sometimes the little things bring tears to my eyes. It is usually when I am moved by something unusual. I do not often think about regrets from my life, but there is one thing that I think about usually every Christmas. It is a random item, but it is something I wish I still had. Each year around Christmas we would make different Christmas cookies and treats to have leading up to Christmas Day. Some we would give to other friends and families as gifts and some were for us. Whatever was still left on Christmas Eve I would leave out for Santa with a glass of egg nog and write him a letter.

While I cannot remember how old I was, or when it happened, eventually I knew that my dad ate the cookies and drank the egg nog. See, my dad had atrocious handwriting. Which is why I did not have to be Encyclopedia Brown to figure out it was him. You are probably wondering where I am going with this story. Well, the few years after my mom passed on, my dad was going through some rough times and we were not in close touch. While going through my mom’s things and knowing we had to get rid of as much as possible or pay to store it, I got rid of those letters. Partly because of space and partly because my dad and I were not so close at the time.

Throughout high school and college, and when I was away during summers I never got letters from my dad. These letters from Santa could potentially tell me a bit about my dad and what ideals, inspiration, and thoughts he wanted to share with me through the voice of Santa. They are gone. So when I saw this video for Extra gum, the tears came to my eyes. The gum wrapper origami birds would have been my letters from Santa.

Any tears? If so, call your dad, or your mom, or whoever you thought about while watching. That very person who made you feel loved.

“Do it right the first time.” My dad ingrained that into me. Whenever we were asked to do something around the house, my dad would inspect our work. If it was done half ass, we would get the: “Do it again” rant, followed by: “Next time, do it right the first time.” Now I think about that all the time at work and in my personal life.

On Friday someone mentioned Father’s Day, and I thought: “Oh right, Father’s Day is Sunday. I guess I should think about that.” On Sunday we did what my dad probably did many, many Sundays: yard work. My dad was a contractor, he fixed, remodeled, and built homes. What that often meant for his family? We were like the cobbler’s kids without shoes, our house was often run down, at least the interior. I remember rips in carpets, a floor infested with termites, a leak in a ceiling in the dining room, walls that needed to be painted, the list goes on. I think my dad was exhausted from fixing other people’s homes. Or, maybe it was too costly to fix the different areas that needed repairs.

You might think, wow, Tami, this is a post about your dad, and Father’s Day was yesterday. You suck as a daughter, but let me tell you, life with a father has its good days and its bad days. While I have many memories of the inside of our home, our yard was my dad (and mom’s) pride and joy. It was always in tip-top shape. My parents worked for hours and hours each week to weed, water, plant flowers, and keep a vegetable garden in the back. They landscaped, arranged rocked, and pruned trees. If you drove by our house, you might think what a nice looking yard, and it was.

Now that I have a yard of my own, I understand how exhausting it is to keep it up, (and I do not have 3 kids to help either). I also know how rewarding it is, to sit outside and enjoy the fruits of the many hours of labor. There is an appreciation for all you have done. I hope my dad felt the same way, and looked at our yard with pride. Looking back I can see how “doing it right the first time” has weaved its way into the inside and outside of my house. I often approach a project with Chris and plan out how we might do something so we do not cut corners and have to do it again. It is not always flawless, but we try.

Last night, Chris and I sat outside with a drink, put our feet up, and admired the landscape. Miss you, Dad.